


Mystery Person

by neptunedemon



Category: Promare (2019)
Genre: Dirty Talk, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff, Leather Kink, M/M, Rockstar AU, Sexual Tension, the transitional space between fucking and in-love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-02
Updated: 2020-01-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:29:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22078495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neptunedemon/pseuds/neptunedemon
Summary: Galo’s pre-show routine is interrupted.
Relationships: Lio Fotia/Galo Thymos
Comments: 8
Kudos: 149





	Mystery Person

**Author's Note:**

  * For [savora](https://archiveofourown.org/users/savora/gifts).



> Some credit for this has to go to savora! We were throwing AU ideas around and voila, she came up with rockstar!Galo and makeupartist!Lio 
> 
> I planned on this being pretty heated and rough but it’s actually kinda soft because they’re in love, it seems
> 
>  **To savora:** *insert massive-and-slightly-apologetic keysmash here*

**FANS QUESTION: WHO IS GALO'S MYSTERY PERSON?**

Galo smirked at the headline on his phone. He swiped down the screen and looked at the picture heading the article, which required an eye roll after he took in the photo snapped at a hasty angle. There were two people in-focus against a backdrop of blurry figures and cityscape. One was clearly himself, sunglasses pushed up his head and resting on his signature wild, blue hair. He was smiling down at a figure huddled into his side, fists punched tight into the pockets of a dark hoodie. The person's hood was up and pulled down over opaque sunglasses. Tufts of pale hair poked from under the hood. 

He closed out of the article and locked his phone, having no desire to read rabid opinions about his personal life that’d been circulating the past month.

Like many celebrities, he had a secret. No big deal. But secrets like this one were kind of thrilling.

Mind rewinding to the time he’d noted before closing his phone, he realized they were pushing past their estimated arrival time. He checked out the window of the limo: buildings were starting to rise out of the horizon, albeit slowly, as they were in bumper-to-bumper traffic with a bunch of sleek urban cars lined up like ants.

As if sensing the question about to be asked, his agent spoke up from her seat next to him. "We'll be there in a few minutes, don’t worry. Our exit is almost here. Do you have anything in the trunk?" While talking, Aina was typing into her phone with focused fingers. She was steadfast and stubborn when it counted most, even if that meant shoving Galo to his interviews, appointments, and tours on time. Their lateness was probably a slow-building simmer under her skin. 

"Nope,” Galo said, then paused. He couldn’t remember what one of the tech crew said to him earlier, but it was something important and he thought he remembered the trunk being mentioned. “Wait. We should check, I think Lucia threw some back-up tech in there."

Aina set down her phone and stared at him. "Back-up tech? In the trunk?" she questioned. 

"Or something," Galo said with a shrug. Out the window, he watched their exit sign rush past as they left the highway. "Oh!" He slapped his hands to the window. In the distance, a large dome was visible between gray stretches of buildings. "Is that the concert hall?"

Aina was huffing and shuffling through a bag at her feet. "Did you not look at the pictures I sent you? Shoot, hold on." She lifted her phone to her ear. "Yeah? No! We'll be there in five. Hey, wait! Check the trunk when we pull up." She paused. "Just do it, okay?" 

Galo watched the dome drawing nearer to them. Aina inserted her phone — damn, that thing never left her hand — in front of his face. "And what is this?!"

That same, tattle-tale news article appeared before his eyes. Her thumb flicked, and yep, there was that picture. 

He knocked the phone away and shot her his best innocent grin. "Damn paparazzi, yeah?"

"I'm not an idiot! I know who that is." She jabbed her phone his way, this time with a finger pointed at him. "You need to be more careful. If you show up with him in pictures like this every city we travel to, people will catch on."

"Yeah, well, too bad. Not like we have any other free moments." He flashed her a wink and resumed his stare out the window. She huffed and turned away; as the one who built his daily routines, that last bit was a jab at her. 

But his little affair wasn't quite so taboo. Perhaps he'd disappoint a few fangirls when the news was out, but for now, this was fun. His heart pounded harder as they drove near the venue. He'd be seeing that little secret of his soon. 

A line was already forming outside the dome building despite the concert being hours off. Traffic controllers shuffled orange cones around and waved cars and groups of pedestrians through the area. Everyone not dressed in orange or police officer gear seemed to turn and throw their hands up in the air as the limo came into view. A wave of giddy screams and cheers, loud enough to be a steady muffle beyond the car's window, washed over the limo. 

"Aw yeah!" Galo hit a button next to him; the window pane started rolling down with a smooth hum. 

The wave of screams broke inside as the window cracked their space open to the daylight. Aina's hand slapped over his. "What are you doing?!"

"Saying hi to my fans!"

"You can't just — no, close it!"

He let her mash the button until the window clicked back into place, then settled back into his seat with an exaggerated sigh. “You never let me have any fun.”

“I let you get away with plenty.” And then they were in the back lot, his trailer waiting loyally amidst a bunch of other trailers and large vehicles. His stomach did the kind of flips that only a certain person could cause.

Someone opened his door and unfiltered sunlight broke into the vehicle; he knocked down his shades to the bridge of his nose and hopped out. Aina was beside him almost immediately. 

"To makeup!" she said, throwing her hand toward his trailer. She turned toward a crowd of crewmembers and security gathering. "Meis! I said to check the trunk!" 

He started toward his trailer without rebuke. Another of the many staff, an easily-ruffled lad named Remi, was between Galo and the trailer, speaking into a headset. When his eyes landed on Galo, he waved him over. "Some crew are still dropping off your clothes. Makeup artist is here, though." He resumed giving orders to the air even while he reached for the door and opened it for Galo. 

Inside was a bumble of people: two men pulling garments out of a dry cleaning bag and hanging them up, a woman setting up drinks and light horderves, and his makeup artist, leaning and unmoving against the vanity. Galo couldn’t help that his eyes carved a path through the small space until they could swallow the sight of that man, a deceitfully delicate way about how he stood among the pre-show chaos. The vanity surface was dotted with neatly propped bottles and brushes, and a swivel chair faced Galo, waiting. 

Galo swallowed hard and locked eyes with his makeup artist. He was granted a brief greeting smile, then both their eyes darted apart. 

“Out in one minute, we’re risking being behind!” Remi yelled from behind Galo. He was still in the doorway, still speaking parttime into the headset. All of the crew except his makeup artist jumped at the order. They hastened to finish. 

“Lio,” one of the men juggling outfits called out. It was Gueira, one of the makeup artist’s assistants. “I need your opinion real fast.” Remi sighed and let the door slam shut, off to put out fires somewhere else. Galo was glad his job was just the performance part. He didn’t know how his agent and the rest of the tour crew kept track of all the moving pieces that went into a single show day. And then thoughts of gratitude and paying respects to their trampled nerves were gone, because his makeup artist walked passed him. 

Lio Fotia was vicious with a brush, a master of dressing the body, and also very, inexplicably good at — 

“Galo,” Lio greeted him with his name and a single nod. He gestured to the waiting seat in front of the vanity. “Please sit down. I’ll be with you soon.”

“You’re so cold, Lio,” Gueira taunted, voice singing and finger wagging. “Why don’t you learn to be nicer to our star?”

“I have one job, as do you. I can already see what’s wrong with this.” Lio and Gueira descended into quiet arguing and bickering over a parade of clothes hung in the closet and a splash of sparkling accessories across a foldout table. Galo sat down in front of the vanity and watched, biting his lip in quiet apprehension; they were running late today, though he wasn’t quite sure what had caused that. He wasn’t good at keeping track. 

Not the best at sitting still, he pulled his sunglasses off and set them on the vanity, then kicked the floor and swiveled a few circles in his chair, innocuously listening to Lio’s commanding tone as he listed things Gueira needed to acquire before tonight. The vibrato of Lio’s voice knocked chords deep in Galo’s stomach. Sometimes the sound really got him, the unwavering confidence making him heady with a want to be told things just for him. He checked the time on his phone and frowned. 

A finger slid under his chin and pushed up, and his heart skipped a beat as Lio spoke with a voice stern enough that Galo held his breath. “Galo, chin up a moment, please. See, Gueira?” He held something next to Galo’s head. “You have to remember _bold_ colors to compliment his hair.”

Gueira rubbed his chin. “Ah, you’re right. But I don’t think we have anything that’d work.”

Lio held Galo’s chin tighter and stepped in front of him, _close,_ so that his legs were on either side of him. If he’d inched forward a little and plopped down, he’d be straddling Galo. The room spiked a little in heat, and Galo looked for a place to put his eyes, but when he tried to avert them, Lio tugged his chin and forced his gaze back up.

Cold, shielded eyes looked down at Galo, who swallowed hard and tried not to choke on the jumble of words caught in his throat. His arms and hands were leaden in his lap, but he was scared that if he tried to move them, they’d immediately fly to Lio’s waist. He glanced down without meaning to, the thought of Lio’s lovely waist automatically drawing his attention, and was punished immediately.

Lio reached behind himself and said to Gueira, “When in doubt or in a pinch, use black. Hand me one.” Galo barely heard the words or remembered what was even going on. 

Lio’s trademark as a makeup artist and designer was his ability to make leather always look like it was simultaneously in-style, something everyone should be wearing, and also something no one else should bother attempting to adorn, since they’d never look as good.

It reminded Galo of the night sky, dark and shimmery, and Galo loved the way it peeled off Lio’s skin, like the nighttime was being flayed so the starlight could better burn. Oh, he needed to put that in a song, Galo noted with a chummy glee. But despite all the poetic nonsense that Galo could prescribe to Lio’s countenance and dress, leather also just outlined his body really damn well. 

Lio must’ve consciously been letting Galo take a good, long look, because after a few seconds he repeated the same tug to get Galo’s attention. It passed in a blink, but Galo was sure he caught the tailend of a self-satisfied grin. 

Gueira reappeared next to them. He handed something to Lio, eyes flickering between them with amused brows raised high. “Here, Boss,” he said with a smirk. “Show me how it’s done.” 

Galo didn't even know what Lio was sliding into his hair; the only thing he was aware of was the deft draw of fingers through his locks, then the cool touch against his forehead as Lio pushed stray strands back. Something clipped to Galo’s hair, adding a small weight to his scalp. Lio pressed forward, as if he needed to climb on top of Galo to get these hair pieces in _just right_ to show Gueira. 

Damn Galo’s own bulk and height. Or, maybe NOT damn it? It’s just that it was easy for Lio to move in such a way that the fabric of his pants was against his hands — hands that now were deathly still. He was warm, and — and Gueira leaned into their space and inspected Galo’s hair. 

A few seconds of silence felt like a millennia passing, all during which Galo’s brain played a lovely little static fritz. Then Gueira piped up, “I see!” Which caused Galo to jump just enough his hands nudged the seam of Lio’s pants. 

Lio’s eyes popped wide with surprise and his breath stuttered through the beginning of his response. Galo raised an eyebrow at him, because what _else_ did Lio think might happen teasing him around others like this?

“Yes,” Lio answered Gueira. He stepped back and tactfully straightened out his clothes. “But think about it next time. We wouldn’t want to risk repetition.”

Gueira waved a hand. “Oh, of course not.”

The trailer door flew open again, and Remi’s head poked inside, eyes narrowed and scanning the room over his glasses. He took a deep breath, then shouted, “Out! Galo HAS to be backstage in less than two hours.”

The two other crew threw down their remaining work and left, squeezing past a frustrated Remi still holding the door open. Gueira sent Lio a tiny salute and nod. “See you, Boss.” He winked at Galo. “Good luck out there tonight!”

Before Galo could thank him, Lio snapped his fingers. “Don’t forget what I taught you!” 

“I won’t.”

He shuffled out. Galo watched him grin at Remi, probably as a show of how not intimidated he wasn’t. Remi really was only surface-level intimidating at best, even when he tried to scowl at people and get the sun to glint off his glasses and into unexpecting eyes. 

Galo sat flustered and red in the vanity chair with Lio beside him, hands behind his back in unassuming professionalism. Galo smiled at Remi, stomach starting to find those flips again along with little flute-songs that tickled his ribs, but Remi only glared at him with brows shoved low over his eyes. Slowly, his eyes shifted to Lio. Galo resisted checking Lio’s expression, as he was sure it’d kill him to look right now.

“I said two hours,” he reiterated, voice icy; he watched Lio like he was expecting an argument. Lio stiffened, but Remi was Lio’s employer somewhere along the chain of command. Galo could cover this one. 

He tried to summon up his most innocent and virgin feelings, pushing the past ten minutes away for just a little bit, and smiled wide at Remi. “We heard you.” He waved across the ten feet of space separating them. “Bye!”

Remi caught his head with the bridge of his nose, shaking it and mumbling something inaudible, and dropped off the trailer steps. The door slammed shut. 

There was this whole second where nothing happened; Galo didn’t breathe, and he and Lio only met eyes in the heat of silence. Then Lio was laughing, voice chortling high and stirring up all the fluttery feelings in Galo’s stomach so much that he started laughing too, despite not knowing what the hell was funny. 

“Bye!” Lio mimicked. “Idiot, Galo.” He swat him with a brush from the vanity.

“Hey, it worked!” Galo launched from the chair and grabbed his own brush, unable to be left weaponless. They clashed brush sticks a moment, then Galo jumped tactics and went for the throat, thwipping the brush’s bristles underneath Lio’s chin. 

“Ah!” Lio yelped. His protests fell into an involuntary tumble of giggles; he knocked the brush away and slapped his hands over his mouth to quiet them.

“Oh my god,” Galo groaned. He needed more of _that._ He didn’t bother with the brushes, instead reaching for Lio’s sides and squeezing. Lio failed to jump away, caught between the vanity and Galo, and a laugh escaped him when his hands shot down to hit Galo’s. 

“Stop!” he snickered. His face was full of crimson blush. Galo could melt. He dove in for another tickle, but Lio grabbed his wrists and managed to get a breath in. “I think you ruined the mood now, dummy.”

“What mood?” Galo smirked and stepped forward, breaking the grip Lio had on his wrists. His hands began to seek the warmer side of Lio’s jacket, the space between leather and the thin material of his shirt, just to nab a tease before he could feel skin. 

What happened next usually happened, but it still caught Galo off-guard. Lio was graceful, lean, and for all (most) intents and purposes, had all the appearances of gentleness. So it was amazing that even standing, Lio’s eyes could flash a little darker and grab Galo by the chin again with one hand, a light handhold with the other, and flip the entire game. 

“That’s not how this works, Galo,” he said, voice cool and even, back to professionalism. But with a dash of something else, something that was in the way the sentence inflected up at the edges. Either way, it dropped a new layer of gravity between them.

Lio kicked the vanity chair into position with his foot and then hiked it on the side to keep it still. “Sit,” he ordered. Galo fell back into it, so very weak to Lio.

Lio leaned over him, body stretched out as he propped himself against his leg. Galo’s heart was in a scramble over his breathless lungs, and his hands reached to snatch Lio at his sides when Lio took Galo’s face in soft hands. 

He kissed him, slower than the heat between them would imply, and Galo took it for what it was: a greeting, a hello, an I-missed-you. His mouth cracked a grin. 

Supported by Galo’s hands, Lio removed his foot from the chair, and he must've stomped the latch because a moment later the chair sunk lower, exhaling a metallic squeak. 

The motion jostled their kiss apart. They both huffed laughter, soft and foggy-brained and only slightly startled. “Very smooth,” Galo teased.

“Sh!” Lio’s face pressed into rigid determination as he readjusted himself and straddled Galo’s lap. For real this time. Galo let his body dip into the chair, indulging in the drag of his clothes and tightness of the space. 

Lio hovered over him, wreckage in his eyes, then leaned back down and caught Galo’s mouth in a kiss that was more than before. 

Lio held Galo down by the shoulders, sliding his knee between Galo’s legs. Finally. Galo let his mind be washed over by Lio’s presence, feeling it wrap hot and pulling around him. He grabbed Lio’s hips and pushed him forward, a little tighter, sensations a little harder. His heart was fluttering so hard it might carry away. Did Lio’s heart do that, too?

Galo tended to get more fuzzy-headed than usual during something like this; it wasn’t like the concerts that ignited his soul and set him wild and loose on the world. This was something that grasped that burning soul of his and put it deep in his belly, a hot coal revving his body. 

His hands traced Lio, the leather-bound tightness of his ass, the muscles of his thighs taught with his own weight, and then cupped the front of his pants. Lio emitted a delicious gasp that Galo swallowed back. His hands were mid-search for the finer outlines of Lio in his pants, but Lio grinds into him one ruddy, heated time, nabs a teasing kiss, and pulls back. His eyes watch him, reflective, faraway, wanting.

Oh, fuck, he’s going to go mad. 

Lio’s fingers touched the fastenings of Galo’s jeans, touch light as a ghost and causing him to shiver with anticipation.

A buzzing sound split through the room and they startled apart. The heat solidified and then shattered. Suddenly the sounds of the tour crew and traffic outside the trailer filled back in around them, and the space is small and unenticing. 

Lio snatched his phone from where it rested on the vanity surface. “Yes?” he said, managing to sound barely breathless. “Oh, good. We’re almost done.” Galo’s head whipped accusingly back to Lio. Lio shook his head, panicked and eyes darting somewhere behind Galo, gesturing him to do _something._ “No, more like, uh... Thirty?”

Galo turned and assumed Lio must’ve been referring to his wardrobe. Start dressing himself, he supposed, and cursed the universe as he trudged away. 

Lio’s voice rose at whoever was on the other end. “Well, usually this takes three hours, so THAT is still a great time. We’ll be out then. Don’t send anyone in to interrupt, even Gueira.” 

Galo waited until he heard Lio’s phone clink onto the vanity again to complain, “This closet is a mess.” He stood before it, a defeated man with arms hung at his sides. 

Lio was there quickly, rushing past and arms diving elbow-deep into the crowd of garments. “It just looks like that because you aren’t the one who cleaned up.” Lio tugged things out that flew idly past Galo’s notice: stark green parents, a white shirt with some sort of line art design, a few accessories. Idly, he felt the black barrettes in his hair from earlier. 

Then his mind caught up and he blinked, frowning. “Aw, wait. We’re really low on time?”

“Unless you were planning on becoming an exhibitionist today, then yeah.”

Galo perked up. “Is that an option?”

“Dress!” Lio shoved clothes in his arms, easily catching the things that toppled off the pile as Galo’s arms failed to capture the load. “And then we need to do your makeup.”

“I’ll save some time!”

“What?” Lio demanded, already half-turned back to the vanity, but then Galo threw off his shirt and dropped his pants. He almost caught his own face in a blush with the way the heat went to Lio’s, who took a solid, flustered few seconds to quickly stare him up and down. But then Lio waved his hands and teased, “Away, you!” and rushed to throttle his bottles and brushes. 

~

Believe it or not, a concert — or at least Galo’s kind of concert — was easier to rock with a distant, horny buzz in one’s blood. Galo felt like a snap of electric breaking across the stage, notes jamming from his fingers to guitar strings to spark across the stage, his voice rising and yelling out to meet the crowd. 

Was it him, or were the screams even louder tonight, too? It was PROBABLY just him, but damn, it boiled his blood. He wasn’t completely sure what Lio did with the time between makeup and his post-show cleanse, but right now he prayed he was watching. Galo was on _fire._

Still, he would’ve preferred not being interrupted earlier. He wanted Lio’s touch terribly, and he HAD wanted it badly for the days since their last city-stop. He was usually whisked elsewhere during the days between, with Lio leading a less-complicated life, and until they were willing to be more public about their relationship, their meetups had to blend with their respective routines. 

He’d wanted in Lio’s pants, and Lio in his, all fucking week, basically, and so despite his kickstart to an incredible performance... hell. It was almost as if not only did his cock ache, but his heart, too. 

At one point in a song, one about unrequited love and nights lost to hopeless pining, the intrusive thought slammed into him that perhaps Lio would get himself off without Galo there. His chest flared with the bitter heat of hypothetical jealousy, and he yelled out lyrics with even more passion than usual. 

His fans screamed, utterly infatuated, until his encore’s end.

Stage lights still fluttered across his vision when he was finally gathered back at his trailer. The night was still beating music into his ears, his core, his soul, but when he remembered Lio waiting within the metal confines he was approaching, his heart resumed another melody. The night air was warm but had that brush of sunless cool, and it was a nice break for his temperature until he spiked it again.

Aina caught up with him steps away from the trailer door. Good thing he hadn’t started shedding clothes out here. 

“Lio said that since your pre-show was rushed,” she said and paused, eyeing him a while as if she expected him to insert a comment. He gave her a plaintive stare. “That you two might take more time during your post-show.” She waited again. When Galo didn’t react, she smiled wide, too wide, all her teeth on display. “So he said to tell you he’s ready for you as soon as possible.”

Galo looked at his trailer, mere steps away, and wondered the need for that message to be sent when this was part of his typical schedule. He shrugged and waved at Aina. “Thanks for the memo!” And he went inside. 

He shut the door firmly and slid the lock before turning around. For the barest seconds, he thought the place was empty: there was no Lio by the vanity or standing in the center of the room, hand on his hip and waiting, all smirks and teasing comments — his stomach fluttered and he whirled around in dire hope he was somewhere — and he was somewhere. 

The breath knocked out of Galo. 

Galo had a small bed beside the closet, meant for brief stays and naps, really, as it was nothing spectacular; however right now was the best encounter he would ever have with it. 

Lio was curled upright on the bed, legs spread so that his face could be seen between them. His pants were around his knees, material shining as it stretched.

He stroked his own cock, lazy gaze cracking a smirk when he met Galo’s eyes. It quickly melted back into a wanting wince, a hiss escaping his lips, hips bucking into his own hands. Maybe he was playing it up.

Galo’s jacket hit the floor. Maybe he wasn’t. But the smolder of _want_ that WAS in Lio’s gaze across the trailer mirrored that coal in Galo’s gut, still burning him open and exposed to desire. 

A few steps forward and his shirt followed the jacket, leaving a breadcrumb trail to the bed. That was a good idea, in case Galo jumped Lio hard enough to tumble them out of the universe. 

“Fuck,” Lio cursed, hand stuttering over his cock. He took a breath, then flashed a teasing grin. “What, you just wanna _watch_ me come?”

He hadn’t meant to be stalling, that was for sure; he pitched forward, catching himself over Lio who knocked back against the bed with a gentle start. He blinked, short-circuiting behind those beautifully scheming eyes. 

Galo met his lips, nearly killing over when he felt Lio resume stroking himself. His hand bobbed against the bottom of Galo’s shirt, nudging his torso with the tip of his cock. 

He dazed at the blood pounding through him: fast, hot streaks wiring all his muscles and blood vessels. It made his brain feel overcharged and slow all at once. He held himself up with knees and core strength and fumbled against the fastenings of his pants with his hands knocking against Lio’s grasped cock. 

The waiting and tormenting were all REALLY starting to throw its full gall against Galo; he was already hard when he pulled his cock out. 

A stream of words and sounds came from Lio, but Galo was a focused man. He stroked himself a few times, not avoiding rubbing against Lio, then rested himself in the space between Lio’s fist and thigh. He thrust forward, rubbing them both together, and Lio gripped both of them in one hand and it was hot and close. But hell, it wasn’t nearly enough, just another inch closer. 

“I thought about you touching yourself,” Galo muttered against Lio’s jaw.

Lio made a low, growling sound. “While on stage?”

“Yes.” He touched his lips to Lio’s throat to feel the vibrations of his moan.

He wondered how much he’d need to take of Lio to feel full of him. His face warmed at the thought, but when he looked up at Lio, he was pinking, too, eyes suddenly to the side of the bed.

Galo slowed his rutting and gave him a light kiss on the forehead. “All okay?”

“Oh, yeah.” Lio smirked, a knock to Galo’s lungs. How did he always look like a brand new sunrise? “Since this is _after_ the show...” he trailed off.

Galo backed away, mouth shamelessly a little open. It’d been a while. THIS is what they needed, what he needed to feel. His knees trembled, both blood and thoughts dizzy. 

“Yes, my god,” he answered. He ignored Lio’s light laugh at his eagerness and rolled off him, laying himself as the open one on the bed, knees and below dangling off the side. Lio stopped chuckling to rip his eyes across his body with a new hunger. He scrambled to sit up, kicking the remainder of his pants off. For a moment, Galo watched them drop to the ground and regretted he hadn’t gotten to pry the tight, clinging fabric off him. 

Lio dropped to his knees and yanked down Galo’s pants some inches, enough to drop his mouth over his cock and sink down in a few long, godsent swallows. Galo couldn’t stop the cry that left him; he hitched and gasped under Lio’s mouth. Warm and hot were different things suddenly, and Lio’s mouth managed to be both. And wet. Fuck, Galo wanted to slide into him forever, but he hadn’t forgotten his need to be filled. 

Lio only stopped long enough to throw open a nearby drawer. Then Galo heard the pop of a bottle cap, and soon a finger was pressing into him, a little cold but quickly warm. The push wasn’t thick or long enough, and it almost pained Galo to not have more immediately. 

“Just, more,” he gasped when Lio pulled out to add another finger. And thank god, when he did enter again, it was with three, giving Galo a pleasant stretch that he buried into. He pulled as much pleasure from it as he could, but his mind raced forward, wanting more _still._

Lio had been idly lapping and handling his cock, but Galo had to put a hand on his head and mutter, “Stop, if you wanna — ”

Lio jumped back. “Oh, I definitely wanna.” Galo heard wrappers and bottles from the stash at the floor, and he couldn’t find the strength to sit up and watch, though he helped himself out of his pants, tossing them on top of Lio's. He stared at the trailer ceiling and felt the heave of his breaths. He tried to slow the pounding of his heart. His work was thrown out when Lio was over him again, folding his legs on the bed and curving Galo’s legs around his hips.

He was a mess, ass empty, cock begging, body open; all that combined to a wanting chaos. It coursed through him in such a good-bad way, so GOOD along with the knowledge that he was about to get fucked. 

Lio guided himself, nudging Galo’s entrance, sending a shiver up and down his spine. He wiggled his hips, a damn near plea about to burst from his lips. Then Lio wrapped his hands as much as he could around Galo’s waist and pushed into him. Slow but angled deep, stirring a rumble in Galo’s chest. 

The slow, filling sensation had him in whimpering, cursing want, with a currently untouched cock twitching unreposed. If he let his mind go, he’d probably come in seconds. Though watching Lio’s scrunched face, with his gasping, ragged breaths, he wondered if he were not the same. 

Lio slid out, drawing an emptying hiss from Galo until he pushed back in a little faster, returning with an even hotter drag. 

The room was warm with their combined heat and the trailer was stuffy at its best. Yet — and it might’ve been the horny fog in his brain — despite their location, Galo could’ve sworn he was on the highest cloud. Lio thrust into him harder, his cock bobbed, his heart hammered, all an intoxicating repetition of pleasure. 

Suddenly Lio’s mouth was at his ear. He whispered, “You were so hot on stage,” and his voice was sultry and rough. Galo tensed, or so help him GOD he was going to come. 

“I wanted you so bad when you left. But it was worth waiting. You’re amazing when you’re wanting fucked.”

Galo felt the need to dig for something witty as a response, as was his nature, but the only sound he made was a nigh embarrassingly loud moan as Lio hiked his legs up to angle farther back into him. 

“Aren’t I right? You want fucked?” Lio managed to get out, voice and words becoming heavier. 

“You’re right,” he complied without shame, and it with either timing or a reward, but Lio’s hand gripped the base of Galo’s cock again and stroked. Almost instantly, Galo had a grip of the bed and was slamming himself down on Lio, who caught on and hit harder into Galo. His ass felt so stretched, beautifully sore, and Lio was right: it WAS a blessing-in-disguise that they’d been interrupted earlier. Galo needed a pounding in his ass more often than they could manage. 

Galo came on his stomach, down Lio’s thrusting hand, and he gasped and yelled his throat dry while Lio rubbed his oversensitive cock, throwing pained and blissed out aftershocks across his body. 

It was only seconds, but felt like whole minutes of Lio relentlessly fucking his tired body until he came, too. His face scrunched one second, then shattered apart the next, blossoming into an expression of pleasure Galo could never resist leaning up and kissing, no matter his shaking limbs. 

They ended in a sticky pile, bodies together in hot, sweaty bliss, and they might fall asleep if it weren’t for Galo’s light, persistent kisses across Lio’s face and neck as he lay curled into his arms. 

A little strength regained, Lio stirred and raised his mouth to Galo’s. They kissed, gingerly and soft, then pulled apart. 

Lio grinned wide, face flushed. “I can add some extra steps to your cleanse,” he said.

~ 

Galo knocked three times on the hotel door and stepped back. He looked left and right down the hallway, checking once more that it was empty, then turned back to the door as it opened. Lio poked his head out. “I’m not ready yet,” he whispered, but the door opened wider and he stepped back. 

His eyes found the rose in Galo’s hands, and Galo’s entire being floated a little when he watched the warmth color Lio’s face.

He stepped into the hotel room. “Hello, beautiful.” He leaned against the wall so the door could be shut. “Don’t worry. I can wait.”

Despite the complaint, Lio seemed ready to Galo. Black pants, for once _not_ leather, and a tucked, green shirt secured with suspenders. He was adorable; Galo was lucky, and even luckier that somehow an extra night off had been slipped into the tour schedule. He wondered if he had someone to thank for that.

Lio flicked on the bathroom light and primped his hair a little more, then tugged at his suspenders. “Ready,” he announced. 

“For the lovely lad.” Galo handed him the rose. 

“How dramatic,” Lio said, though he took it with a pursed-lip blush and averted eyes. He laid it delicately in the middle of the bed, something wholly romantic in the action that Galo couldn’t quite define. 

Their hands laced together like it was their natural state. They were about to open the door to head out for their date, a romantic dinner in some sparkling upscale place, when Lio stopped and turned back, breaking their handhold. “Almost forgot,” he said, reaching for the dresser drawers. They rolled open and he began pulling out a familiar hoodie. Sunglasses were already set out on the dresser’s surface. 

Galo’s heart jumped to his throat, but he swallowed it down and found his words: “Actually... leave it. If you want, of course.”

Lio looked at him with a longing stare. In his peripheral, he could see the rose on the bed behind Lio. His face felt hot. He might be nervous, which wasn’t usual for him.

Lio dropped the hoodie back into the drawer. “Are you sure?” 

Galo grabbed his hand again, walking them back toward the front of the room. “Definitely.”

The trip to the hotel lobby was quiet, dotted with only a few double-takes. Galo’s head buzzed with excitement. Something new was starting. Something good. 

Outside the hotel the night sky was bruised purple above the city, concealing stars and firelight, though Galo was sure all the universe’s burning was in the hold of their hands. 

They went out into the night.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading!!! i'm working on more galolio works i hope to bring to light soon! i love them <3 
> 
> [twitter](http://twitter.com/neptunedemon) | [tumblr](http://neptunedemon.tumblr.com/)


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